


Sail

by idreamofstylinson



Category: One Direction
Genre: High School Harry, M/M, Minor Angst, Sailor Louis, idek, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofstylinson/pseuds/idreamofstylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be just a quick stop; a simple, one night stay in the crowded marina and then off to the next one on his list. Like how it was supposed to be just a fling; a simple, one night shag with the local boy. But, really, when does anything in Louis’ life actually turn out like it’s supposed to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sail

**Author's Note:**

> be gentle with my poor heart, but let me know what you think?

Sail | Chapter 1

 

Louis sighs, running his hand over his tired eyes as he lifts himself from his tiny bed and easily avoids hitting his head on the wood framing above, just like he’s done countless times.

 _It’s hot here,_ he thinks, throwing on some grey trackies but dismissing the idea of searching for a clean shirt in his messy little cabin. He grumbles a bit and makes his way up to the top deck of the boat, being sure to grab his Ray Bans before he exposes himself to that dreaded morning sun. The second he’s outside, goosebumps rise up on his tan arms, his skin not yet used to the chilly summer breeze in this new place. Louis rolls his neck around a couple times and shakes out his limbs while walking over to the wheel. The sun has just risen, fresh and ready for a new day, and it warms the skin on his back as he turns the wheel just slightly to adjust to the small wind.

With one hand braced on the weathered wood of the wheel, Louis reaches up and brushes his fingers across the smooth photograph awfully taped to the dash in front of him; the most recent and only picture he has of his mum and four sisters who are smiling and laughing at each other instead of the camera. Louis feels himself smile along with his family, remembering how he had made them laugh so hard they had tears springing out of their eyes right before the photo was taken.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Louis removes his fingers from the print and instead fixes his gaze on the picture next to it. It’s of himself and his best friend, Stan, on the last day of their last year at school. Ugh, that had been such a relief for Lou, walking out those big doors and knowing that he’d never have to walk back through them. His life would finally be able to start, and he and Stan had been more than chuffed at that thought, which explains their huge, blissed out smiles in the picture. That was two years ago, when Louis had been a young, naïve eighteen year old. To himself, he wonders if he still looks as young and happy as he did in the shot, but he quickly doubts that and adjusts the sunglasses that are sliding a bit down his nose. He taps his fingers to a tuneless beat on the steering wheel and turns his head to make sure the sails on his boat are still up and flapping freely in the breezy air. Sure enough, the white material is as pristine as it was the day before, and the day before that, and Louis makes a small noise of approval and returns his gaze to the front of the boat, to the calm blue water surrounding him and rocking his boat back and forth, side to side.

Louis squints through the frames of his glasses and observes his next destination. _Busy_ is the first word that comes to his mind. The marina is crowded with other sailboats and yachts and tourists, just the sight overwhelms Louis. He instantly thanks himself for calling ahead and letting the marina office know he was on his way, and he is extra grateful to himself for making it clear to them that he is only interested in a one-night mooring and a quick fuel-up. When the woman in the marina office started going on about the “fabulous Marina Bar and Grille, oh, sir, you’d just love it!”, Louis politely denied and once again informed her that he wasn’t planning on staying longer than one night, two at the absolute max. The woman seemed utterly baffled at the thought of someone _not_ wanting to tour around the marina, and Louis could practically see her confused frown over the phone, but he easily ignored it and hung up with a short goodbye. This was a usual occurrence and the young sailor had become accustomed to keeping to himself and answering any and all personal questions that nosy people tended to ask with simple, one word replies. He isn’t really a “small talk” kind of lad, so he didn’t feel the need to pretend he was.

Taking a last glance at the busy land only a couple thousand feet away and praying he’d get this done as easily as possible, Louis reaches into the cubby below the steering wheel and blindly fumbles around for his notebook, discarding food wrappers and old maps and moorage-fee bills. Eventually he feels the plastic coil holding the book together and pulls it out, along with a random pen. Louis flips the cover of the notebook open to his dog-eared page and his eyes roam across his crooked, boyish handwriting until he finds the nearest empty space. He absently bites on his lower lip and brings pen to paper. Huffing a quick breath, he writes:

 

_Liverpool, UK, 23 May 2012, breezy, temp. 25°C. just a quick stop._

**

 

Docking at the marina was a hassle, Louis decides. It had taken him at least thirty extra minutes to find an empty berth in all the hustle and bustle of tourists and boaters, which had ultimately dropped Louis’ mood from a weak seven and a half to a solid three; not fun. After he’d managed to anchor and tie the boat to the dock, he’d gotten a little lost and didn’t know which way led to the marina office. Luckily a nice couple had pointed him in the right direction and now here he is, standing in front of the organized front desk, facing an all-too-pleasant woman with a nametag that reads _Hi there, I’m Shirley_ in big chunky letters. Shirley looks up with squinty eyes and a very round, red face.

“So, Mr. Tomlinson, looks like you’re all set ‘ere. The moorage fee’ll be £8.50 a night, as you’re just a visitor,” She eyes him curiously and carefully, which he simply ignores and waits for her to finish her spiel. “If you don’t mind me askin’, you’re rather young to be out sailin’ on your own, what brings you to Liverpool?” Surely—hah, pun intended—Shirley means it in the kindest way, but Louis’ heard it so many times before that by now it just comes off as plain annoying. The pudgy woman leans forward, elbows rested on the desk in front of her as if Louis is about to tell the most interesting story of the year.

Louis, on the other hand, has to convince himself not to tell her off right then and there. He stands up a bit straighter and bites the inside of his cheek furiously to secure his, erm, unkind words and only let out the polite ones. “Rest stop, ma’am. I wasn’t planning on docking here, but I have some things to take care of before departing again.” Louis’ actually a bit shocked at how stiff and adult-like his voice sounds, as if it’s coming from a body that’s not his own. _You’re just tired, Lou._ He tells himself, not wanting to believe that he’s genuinely this stand-offish and impersonal; he’s usually exuberant and cheeky and happy to talk to strangers that give him the time of day.

Shirley eyes him up and down as he stands with his fists in his pockets, then clears her throat and pastes on that fake smile once again. “Of course, sir. I hope you get what you need and have safe travels.” And with that, she takes the money Louis had previously placed on the desk and clicks away on her computer, clearly finished with the conversation. Louis rolls his eyes and mutters a “thanks” before walking out of the office and back into the sunny afternoon.

“Now that that’s finally settled,” Louis huffs and replaces the sunglasses on his face after taking them off oh-so-politely in order to talk to the oh-so-friendly office woman. He bites his lip out of lifelong habit and surveys the area around him.

There’re the moorings on his right, definitely at least one hundred boats, of all kinds and sizes, docked and waiting patiently for their owners to return from being tourists for the day. Then, to his left, is the busy walkway filled with shops and picnic tables and little kids screaming that only remind Louis of how much he misses his home in Doncaster. Sighing and turning away from the sight, Lou fixes his eyes on the sign above the building in front of him; _Liverpool Marina Harbourside Bar and Grille_ , it reads. The twenty year old decides that he’s a bit hungry, seeing how he hadn’t eaten anything since when he woke up on the boat three hours ago.

There’s another sign that tells any patrons to sit wherever they’d like, so Louis puffs out his cheeks and supposes that he could handle some fish and chips on the deck overlooking the marina. A waitress comes over to where he’s sat at a lone picnic table and takes his order without any attempt at conversation, much to Louis’ satisfaction. He fingers the frayed edges of the red checked table cloth beneath his elbows and hums The Fray quietly to himself.

It’s peaceful for a moment or two, until he turns his head and catches sight of a twig-thin, bleach blonde girl sending googly eyes his way. He groans inwardly and rolls his eyes, thankful that his sunglasses make it impossible for the girl to notice. He turns his attention back to the ratty table cloth and counts down from ten.

 _Ten._ _Nine. Eight. Seven._ He waits patiently.

 

 _Six. Five. Four._ Footsteps become audible from behind him.

 

_Three. Two…_

“H—”

“I’m gay, sweetheart.” He says honestly, loud and clear, without even glancing up. The footsteps that were previously approaching have stopped and he hears a tiny intake of breath and then the steps reappear, but become quieter as his visitor leaves in a hurry. He chuckles and shakes his head, finally risking a look at the flustered and slightly awed girl. She quickly scurries away from his side of the deck and Louis really laughs this time. It used to be a bit awkward, telling girls that, but he’s had to say it so much on his little voyages that it’s basically his greeting to everyone; ‘Hi, I like dick, how are you?’

“Well, you sure like to make an impression, huh?” Another female voice appears from his side. He looks up and sees his waitress placing down his food and water on the table. Louis smirks cheekily and shrugs, as if to reply “Well, what can I say?” The waitress laughs and puts a hand on her hip while watching Louis, scrutinizing him almost with her vibrant green eyes.

“You sure you’re gay?” She asks forwardly, but Louis’ not taken aback in the slightest. He’s always liked someone who can be so straight-forward, screw beating around the bush.

“Fairly certain, yeah.” He tells her with a genuine smile. She sighs dramatically and teasingly flips her thick, curly brown hair.

“Shame, you got a pretty face for a guy’s guy. Oh well!” She jokes and Louis takes a moment to read her nametag, _Gemma_. “Can I get you anything else while I’m here?”

“No thanks, Gems, I think I’m all set.” Louis talks to the waitress as if they’ve known each other for ages, which makes them both smile and let out a laugh. It’s been a while, Louis realizes, since he’s had normal, happy human contact. This is good. “I’m Louis, by the way.”

Gemma grins and pats his shoulder from where she’s still standing beside him. “Nice to meet you, Lou. Holler if you need!” She flashes one last smile and saunters happily back to the depths of the restaurant.

As if on cue, Louis’ stomach makes a loud gurgling noise and he remembers that he has food finally. His hands act before his mind can even process and he’s instantly digging in to the fish and chips as if they were the last things he’ll ever eat. He lifts the salt shaker over the deliciously fried food and is just about to shake some salt when he hears a load of crashing and shouting and stumbling from the entrance to the deck. Hand still in mid-shake, he moves his eyes to the source of the noise and raises an amused eyebrow at the sight in front of him.

“Ugh! How many times do I have to tell you, Haz? _Stay away from where I work._ Are you trying to get me fired?!” Gemma is shouting, furious, at a jumbled up pile of limbs and back packs, which one could easily mistake as three teenage boys groaning and stifling laughs on top of one another. A body emerges from the heap and stands clumsily to his feet, then places a hand onto Gemma’s shoulder.

“You need to calm down before you have another anxiety attack. We were just having a laugh; don’t get so twisted up about it.” The boy says with a roll of his eyes and Gemma grunts and returns the look.

“Well, have a laugh somewhere else. Unlike you, some people actually have to _work_ for a living.” She slaps the back of the boy’s curly head and walks away in a cloud of frustration. The boy simply shrugs and turns to the two other boys standing behind him and laughing like idiots.

Louis can clearly see the boy Gemma was yelling at now; he has the same curly brown hair as her, along with the same bright green eyes, which makes it sort of obvious that their related, most likely siblings. The boy smirks at his friends and shakes out his unruly curls in a way that only indicates he’s done it a million times before. As he lifts his head back up, his eyes meet Louis’ and he stares for a split second, and then a small smirk grows on his pink lips. He’s actually pretty good looking, in Louis’ opinion, in a sort of cocky school boy way, but definitely not Louis’ type. They boy salutes Louis with two fingers and turns his attention back to his friends. They mumble and chuckle about nonsense that Louis can’t hear and pick up their fallen backpacks.

 _Hah, so glad I’m done with school,_ Louis thinks and smiles to himself. He finishes off the rest of his fish and chips and throws the paper plate in the bin to his left, then stands from the picnic table and heads toward the restaurant’s exit. He notices Gemma standing by the bar with her phone in hand, staring intently down at something on the screen. She looks up and smiles at Louis.

“Nice to meet you, babe! See you around, yeah?” She calls out and Louis agrees happily, but leaves out the part about him leaving the marina in the morning. He pats his pockets to make sure he has his phone and wallet and quickly pushes through the doors of the restaurant, passing by the same three boys that were seemingly deciding whether they should eat inside or outside.

 

 He doesn’t notice, however, the curious green eyes fixed on his backside as he walks out.

 


End file.
